


Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

by keelhaulrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelhaulrose/pseuds/keelhaulrose
Summary: Dean Winchester is in a bad mood. Against his better judgement he promised to go to the Christmas party and meet Hermione's friends, and what's worse, he's got to wear an ugly sweater for it. But he quickly learns there are perks to the wizarding world, and that he could use those perks to make the party much more fun then he expected.





	Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ria, who gave me the prompt and pairing for this. I almost didn't get it done in time, but my clock still shows one hour left of Christmas!
> 
> Enjoy!

The Impala's tires screamed in protest as the car skidded to a halt outside a brick two-story building nestled on a quiet street of a middle-class neighborhood in the suburbs of Kansas City. Dean Winchester jumped from the passenger side before it had fully come to a stop and ran full-tilt across the lawn, his brother following after putting the car in park. As Dean got to the front door he pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and a flashlight from his pocket, holding them out in front of him in a practiced motion, and he paused just long enough for Sam to catch up and have his back. They took a couple steps into the house when Sam lowered his flashlight to shine on the floor, illuminating drops, then small pools of blood. Not far past was a circle of salt that had been disturbed, and a smashed table not far away from that.

“Hermione?” Dean called.

“In here!” came a weak reply from the back of the house.

They hurried towards the back, checking each room as they entered it, until they found her propped against a couch in a pool of blood. Hermione skin was pale and her teeth were clenched as she fought the pain of a large gash that had been opened on her right forearm.

“Is it gone?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” she replied, rooting frantically in her small beaded bag. She pulled out a small phial and held it out to him. “A little help?” she asked, her hand shaking.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, kneeling next to her and pulling the stopper out.

“I got hit with a bloody hatchet, that's what happened,” she grumbled, tipping a few drops of Essence of Dittany from the phial onto her wound, hissing as it made contact and her skin started knitting itself back together.

“The girl?” Sam asked.

“I sent her to her mum's. She promised not to say anything about us, but I made some assurances,” she replied, digging back in her bag. “Took your bloody time salting and burning him, didn't you?”

“It's December!” Sam protested. “The ground is a bit hard.”

“I knew I should have gone,” she muttered, pulling out another phial, this time opening it herself and taking a drink. Placing it down on the ground she pulled a bandage from her bag and laid it on her lap before closing her eyes and exhaling loudly as her head fell back onto the couch behind her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, studying the wound on her arm, which was still oozing slowly, before wrapping it in the bandage.

“That one managed to break the bone. I fixed that part before you got here. It's going to hurt for the next couple of days, but I'll be alright,” she replied.

“If you had gone to the grave it would have taken us longer to get here, and that girl could have been killed. You did good, Hermione.”

“It was nice to get this one finished before Christmas,” she sighed as he kissed her shoulder, then sat next to her and carefully wrapped an arm around her.

“Speaking of which, it's only 11:53,” Sam announced with a smirk.

“Really?” her head shot up, a smile spreading across her face.

“No!” Dean groaned.

“11:53,” Sam repeated, holding out his phone for evidence.

“Dammit,” he spat.

“You promised if we finished the case before the 23rd, and 11:53 is before midnight...” Hermione started.

“That's when I didn't think we were going to get it done!” he protested.

“Well, I'm sorry, but a promise is a promise.”

“I'd rather kiss Crowley,” he grumbled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Sam. “Fine,” she said, plunging her hand into her bag and pulling out a piece of chalk. She shakily moved so she was kneeling at a coffee table, which she cleared with a sweeping motion of her arm before starting to draw on the surface.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Summoning Crowley,” she replied.

“What?” he looked up at Sam, who shook his head while fighting a smile.

“You said you'd rather kiss Crowley than go to a Christmas party with me, so I'll let you out of it if you keep your word. But it better not be a quick little peck, I better get to see a bloody good snog.”

“Hermione...” he sighed.

“Dean,” she shot back. “I'm sorry you find spending a Christmas party with me so unpalatable, but you did make a promise.”

“It's not the party that get to me,” he muttered, shooting a dark look at Sam who wasn't even attempting to hide his snickering.

“Everyone will be doing it,” she pointed out.

“As much as I hate that part, that's not the part that is bothering me the most.”

She looked up at him, then gingerly sat back against the couch. “Are you really that uncomfortable about that?”

“Just because I'm with you doesn't mean I don't feel the same reaction at the thought of walking into a room of witches and wizards that I did before I met you. Maybe even more because I know I'm going to be unarmed.”

“I wouldn't let anyone hurt you.”

“I know. And I trust that you wouldn't voluntarily put me around people that would try to hurt me. But it's not your party, you aren't controlling the guest list, and after that article...”

“Rita Skeeter can go to... well, I'd say Hell, but I wouldn't even wish that on Crowley. She makes things sound so much worse than they really are.”

“So a hunter and a witch dating isn't a big deal?” he asked skeptically.

“It is,” she admitted. “But it's not the 'Hermione should be thrown in jail and the Aurors should kill him' situation she says. She's hated me ever since I kept her in a jar in bug form for a while, so she will take any excuse to discredit me or make me look horrid. Most people don't give a damn, and the type of people Fred and George Weasley would invite to a party even less so.”

He looked at her, then sighed. “Alright. I promised, so I'll go.”

“And I'll promise that if something makes you uncomfortable we'll leave,” she said.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let's get out of here before she comes back,” he said, standing.

Hermione shakily got to her feet, then dipped back towards the couch before righting herself.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, catching her and supporting her.

“Yeah, the blood replenishing potion takes six to eight hours to fully work,” she replied. “So I'm still a bit anemic right now. I'm just feeling a bit weak.”

“Well, let's get you back to the hotel, then,” Sam said, moving to her other side to help support her. As they moved through the house Hermione used her wand to right everything and made sure the door was locked before they went. Sam shot a smile over her head at Dean as she did so, things had gotten easier in the year and a half Hermione had been traveling with them, and leaving the scene was near the top of the list of 'things made easier' since having her around. Rather than leaving a mess and a lot of questions (and often questions that the police would like them to answer) behind they left their scenes clean and nosy neighbors clueless, and the number of times they had to scurry away under cover of darkness had gone dramatically down.

Dean helped her into the car, then hurried around to the other side to climb in next to her as Sam sat in the driver's seat. Hermione laid down as the car started moving, resting her head in Dean's lap as he stroked her hair. Sam drove carefully to the run-down but thankfully clean motel on the edge of town and pulled into the spot in front of their room. They helped Hermione inside, and Sam took a quick shower as Dean helped her change into her pajamas. After using the bathroom and changing her bandage Hermione laid one one of the two beds and fell almost immediately to sleep. Dean made sure there was a glass of water on the night table by her before going to shower himself.

“Everything alright?” he asked Sam when he emerged, knowing his brother would have been keeping an eye on Hermione for him.

“She has been out the whole time,” Sam replied, finishing the beer he was drinking and plugging in his phone.

“What are you going to do while I'm gone?”

“We got an invite from Jody to join her for Christmas, I'm going to take her up on that. I'll give her your regards.”

“Oh, man, homemade food...” Dean muttered hungrily.

“From what Hermione says of Mrs. Weasley you'll be getting loads of it on your trip.”

“I know,” he muttered, opening his own beer before carefully sitting on the bed next to Hermione.

“You that nervous?” he asked.

“I'm heading into magic land,” he shot back. “Everyone there is going to have the same powers Hermione has, and she can be fucking terrifying. A group of them, with no way to defend myself?”

“Just remember why you're okay with Hermione being a witch, and that the same applies to them,” Sam pointed out.

“It's different when it's just her.”

“Yeah, but you'll do it for her.”

“Of course I will,” he murmured, looking down at her.

“Let's see if you're singing the same tune tomorrow morning.”

Dean shot him a dirty look. Sam just smirked and turned the light off, lying down and closing his eyes. Dean took one last drink and laid next to Hermione, taking her in his arms and running his fingers over the bandage on her arm before following her into sleep.

 

XXXXXXX

 

“Oh, look at this one, it lights up!” Sam said, holding up a sweater with a wide grin.

“You are enjoying this way too much,” Dean grumbled.

“Just getting into the spirit. Is that a no on the lights?”

“Go to hell.”

“Don't be a Grinch,” Sam said, holding up a sweater featuring the character appearing to pull the decorations off the rest of the sweater.

“That one isn't horrendous,” Dean sighed. “Everything else...”

“How do I look?” Hermione asked, appearing next to them wearing a green dress, a red vest covered in images of gingerbread men, stockings, candy canes, and Santa over it.

“You would look a lot better without that red monstrosity,” he replied.

“Aw, I think the necklace makes it,” she said, pulling a necklace made of glowing Christmas lights from behind her back and putting it over her head.

Dean exhaled in frustration.

“I'll take that as a ringing endorsement,” she smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Did you find anything yet?”

“A whole lot of trash. Are you sure there isn't something out there to hunt right now?”

“I'll be right back,” she smiled, turning and heading back to the changing room.

“Let's find something quick and get out of here,” he grumbled, flipping quickly through the rack in front of him, a look of disgust on his face.

“You don't like getting all wrapped up in the season?” Sam asked, holding up a sweater that looked like a present with a giant golden bow.

“I will shoot you,” he snapped, grabbing a sweater that read 'Merry Christmas You Filthy Animal', wadding it and tucking it under his arm, and heading to the changing room to wait for Hermione. Once they had paid they drove to the outskirts of town where Dean and Hermione could take a Portkey without anyone overseeing.

“Before we go, I have something for you,” Sam said, climbing out and heading for the trunk. After rummaging through he came up with two wrapped gifts. He held out the first

to Dean, who immediately tore it open, box and all, to reveal a flask.

“Thought you might need something to get you through the next couple days,” Sam smiled.

Dean opened it and took a sniff. “Whiskey?”

“Nothing but the best for you,” he nodded, then pulled the rest of the bottle out of the trunk.

“Lifesaver,” Dean said softly.

“Was that to me or the booze?”

“If you have to ask it was the booze,” he replied. “Thanks,” he added, giving Sam a hug. “I didn't get you anything,” he added with a frown.

“'S'alright,” he shrugged. “Go shopping when you're there, bring me back something cool.”

“Pointed hat. Got it.”

Sam rolled his eyes before turning to Hermione, a rectangular gift in his hand, just to find her holding a similar package out to him. They simultaneously took the gifts from each other and tore open the tops to reveal books.

“Supernatural lore,” Hermione smiled, running her fingers over the cover.

“Wizarding lore,” Sam chuckled.

“Thank you,” they said in unison before giving each other a quick hug.

“Nerds,” Dean grumbled, then he tossed his keys to Sam. “Take care of her,” he warned.

“I know,” Sam nodded. “But it's a bit of a drive to Jody's. Good thing I've got the car mount all ready to go. You don't mind if I put that on the dash, do you?”

Dean shot him a dark look, but Hermione smiled and took Dean's hand, her other clutching an old boot. “Take care, Sam,” she said.

“You, too. Have fun!” he called as the boot glowed blue and the two were whisked away.

 

XXXXXXX

 

“Have I mentioned I hate this damn thing?” Dean grumbled, tugging at the hem of the sweater.

“Only a few dozen times,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Never,” he shook his head, then bent to give her a quick kiss. “Let's go.”

Without another word she opened the door to the Burrow. Immediately Molly and Arthur dropped what they were doing to greet them. Dean couldn't help but smile at the warm welcome from Hermione's surrogate parents, and the moment Molly presented him with a large plate of food and a bottle of beer he decided that Molly Weasley was now ranked somewhere around Bobby on his internal 'people I care about' list. She shooed them into the sitting room where most of her brood were sitting around talking, and the moment they entered they were greeted by a chorus of voices.

Harry appeared in front of them, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad you could make it!” Harry said, kissing her cheek.

“Me, too. It's been too long, hasn't it?” she replied.

“Last Christmas. We haven't seen you since last Christmas.”

“Sorry, things kept coming up,” she replied sheepishly.

“I know. Saving the world and all that. Speaking of which,” he turned to Dean and held out his hand. “Harry Potter.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean shook his hand with a nod.

“Granger! Come here!” Charlie Weasley stood and motioned to a couch with two open seats.

Hermione said hello and introduced Dean to Ron, Charlie, George, Ginny, Bill, and Fleur before they sat.

“Okay, how did you get that one?” Charlie asked, motioning to the bandage still on her arm.

“Vengeful spirit with a hatchet,” she replied casually. “You have it beat?”

“Nah, just the same old claws, flames, and spiked tails,” he beamed.

“Charlie is a caretaker for dragons,” she explained to Dean. “He used to love coming to family functions and brag about how he had gotten his latest scars, like it was important for him to have the best one.”

“Last year Hermione there decided to challenge him,” George smiled.

“Right nightmare, that was,” Ron groaned.

“Wasn't that right after...” Dean looked at her.

“That shifter had gotten a hold of me,” she nodded. “It hadn't fully healed by the time I came here.”

“It wasn't pretty,” Ron added with a wince at the memory.

“It wasn't any prettier being there,” Dean chuckled.

“How about you?” George asked. “You've been doing that hunting thing longer than Hermione. You've got to have a few interesting scars with stories.”

Dean frowned. “Thing is, the worst of what I've been through didn't leave scars, at least not the kind you'd see,” he shrugged.

The group looked at him, waiting for more, but Hermione shook her head as Dean took a long drink.

“Okay, I want to know,” Bill started, leaning forward. “I've had a run-in with hunters, back when I worked as a curse breaker, and I'm still curious as to how one wound up dating a witch. How did the two of you meet?”

“He tried to kill me,” Hermione smiled.

“And she wasn't going to go down without a fight,” he added.

“Honestly, it was a serious case of wrong place at the wrong time on my part,” she continued. “That was back when I was studying Potions, remember? I was studying certain plants that grow in the Rocky mountains when two prats with guns came running up attempting to take a shot.”

“To be fair you were using magic, and there was some suspicious activity at the time,” Dean defended.

“That place was so bloody rural... How in the hell was I supposed to know there was a crocotta in the area?”

“Well, as lovely as all that sounds, you seem to have lost the urge to shoot witches on sight,” Ginny pointed out.

“I had dropped my bag with all my research in it in the confusion when I left in a hurry. Dean picked it up and carried it around with him, trying to draw me back out. Luckily for me Sam actually read some of it and realized that I was trying to design a potion to help people, which gave them enough pause when I did show up at a diner asking for it back that they didn't immediately cause a scene or attempt to shoot me again. I got them talking, hoping to show them that I really was harmless, and in that I got out of them what they were doing there. Then I did my own research, and decided to see if I couldn't help.”

“She made a damn pest of herself,” Dean smiled. “Showed up two hours after we talked with her with pages of lore, stuff Sam and I had never seen because it came out of magical texts, and a map with color-coded locations based on how likely it was that we'd find the thing there.”

The group started laughing.

“Was she right?” Harry asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. And because she was Sam was kind of keen on keeping her around.”

“So... your brother wanted her to come with you, but you were against it?”

“I told him no about fifty different times. But when I got in the car to leave she was in the backseat, these excited puppy-dog eyes on. So I agreed to one more case, and that was a year and a half ago.”

“There's a big step between 'grudgingly letting her tag along' and 'dating her',” Ginny pointed out.

“Well, you know how she is. Once you get to know her, it's kind of hard to let her go. And she's ridiculously persistent when she wants something,” he finished with a wink.

“You asked me out twelve times before I agreed,” Hermione smirked, causing her friends to laugh again.

“I'm dry,” he said, standing up. “Anyone need anything?”

“More wine, s'il vous plaît?” Fleur asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” he nodded with a smile, reaching for her glass. “What's your poison?”

“Chardonnay,” she smiled. “Merci.”

Dean started towards the kitchen, but after a few steps found himself unable to move.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, spinning around to look at Hermione.

She looked up and smiled, then stood up. “Enchanted mistletoe,” she explained, pointing upwards. “George here invented it. Step under it, and you can't move until, well, I'm sure you can guess.”

“Really?” he smirked.

She snaked her arms around his neck and lifted herself to press her lips to his, and he held her tightly for a long moment before stepping away from each other and out from under the mistletoe.

“Okay, that's a bit of magic I don't mind,” he said softly.

She smiled and went back to her seat while he went into the kitchen, eyes alight with possibility.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

 

“Dean?” Hermione called, climbing another set of stairs. “Did you get lost?”

“Yeah, sorry, there are so many stairs and doors around here, I couldn't remember which ones go where,” he said, appearing in the door of the bathroom one floor shy of Ron's room.

“It's alright,” she smiled. “Are you ready to go back down?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered.

Her face fell and her brow furrowed. “What's wrong?” she asked. “If you heard a ghoul, they know about it, it's been here ages...”

“It's not that, it's just...” he trailed off.

“Are you alright?” she asked, moving towards him, but a few steps later she found herself stopped dead in her tracks. Looking up she saw some of the mistletoe hanging above her.

“Caught you,” he smirked.

“Really cute,” she rolled her eyes. “Give me a kiss and lets get back downstairs.”

“I had a little talk with George about this stuff,” he said, stepping towards her. “He told me some interesting things. Like, for example, a kiss anywhere but the lips...” he kissed her forehead, but she still felt the mistletoe's hold, “won't break the hold.”

She shivered in anticipation as he brushed the hair off one of her shoulders and started pulling the collar of her dress down. “What else did he tell you?” she asked softly.

“That this would be the best place in the house to pull this off without getting caught, and that he'd make sure no one disturbed us,” he murmured against the skin of her neck before kissing it.

“Dean...” she breathed.

“Hmmm...?” he murmured, one hand unbuttoning her dress as his mouth moved lower.

“We are going to get caught,” she whispered as he pushed the dress open and cool air flowed across her bra-clad breasts.

“I find it really hard to care at the moment,” he replied with finality before lifting her up, pinning her against the wall, and attacking her neck and chest with kisses. She bit her lip to keep from moaning and wrapped her legs around his waist. He moved quickly, occasionally biting lightly, seemingly wanting to make contact with as much of her skin as he possibly could. As was his custom he pressed a lingering kiss to the middle of the anti-possession tattoo that adorned the top of her left breast, something he knew she had been terrified to get, but that she did without hesitation when he asked because she knew how important it was to him. He considered the mark a measure of her commitment to him, especially when she insisted on getting it in roughly the same place his was. He then kissed each of the two runes on either side, suggestions of her own, to strengthen the power of the original tattoo and provide additional protection against other creatures.

She tugged insistently at his sweater, and he smirked as he stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

“It really is bloody hideous,” she murmured.

He put her down and let her pull the sweater off, and she used the motion to pull the t-shirt underneath off as well. His eyes lit up mischievously, and without another word he dropped to his knees, pushing the hem of her dress roughly upwards.

“Hold that,” he ordered, and she hastened to comply. His fingers curled around the sides of her knickers and he pulled them down in one fluid motion, lifting her leg to pull them all the way off before hooking her knee behind his shoulder. Without warning he lunged forward, fingers parting her folds as his tongue ran along her slit until he found her nub. Normally this was an activity he liked to take his time and enjoy, but he knew this wasn't the time, and his tongue moved quickly, flicking rapidly against her as she squirmed against the wall, trying to keep quiet. One of his fingers, then another, entered her and hooked into a come-hither motion, pressing against her sweetest spot, and she let off a soft groan just to alleviate the pressure building in her chest in her attempts at silence.

“Dean,” she whispered as her body started to tighten, her leg drawing him in closer, her fingers white-knuckled as she clutched the fabric of her dress. He felt him chuckle softly against her before his tongue attacked her nub with renewed vigor, and within seconds her mouth opened in a silent cry as her release washed over her.

Dean wasn't about to give her time to recover, standing and undoing his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. Then he lifted her once more, wrapping her legs around his waist, and reaching between them to position himself and enter her with a quick thrust. He silenced her moan with a kiss, tongue pushing past her lips to meet hers. Her back pressed roughly against the wall with each of his rapid thrusts, and she gripped his shoulders tightly to keep steady, pressing her hips against his as she quickly found her climax starting to build again. She felt his chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly, a sign that he was getting close as well, and she dug her nails into his skin, urging him into a frantic pace. That, and the tightening of her walls around him as she orgasmed once, brought about his own climax, and he spilled inside her with a muffled grunt. His kisses slowed as he held her until, with one final caress, he pulled himself from her and gently lowered her back down. She dropped her dress and he pulled his jeans back into place and buttoned and zipped them. He picked up his t-shirt and sweater, pulled them on, then found her knickers on the floor, smirking at her as he handed them back and she quickly pulled them on.

“Merry Christmas, you filthy animal,” she said softly, vanishing the mistletoe before anyone could figure out what they had been up to.

“Oh, you had to go and ruin it now, didn't you?” he groaned playfully as they started to walk back downstairs.

“I certainly wouldn't call it ruined,” she replied.

“You say that now, but when we get back to the hotel and I won't have sex with you again...”

“I could still summon Crowley,” she shrugged.

“You do that,” he wrapped an arm around her when they got to the bottom of the stairs just as Molly was calling everyone to dinner.


End file.
